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... ains, Margo stirred in Queen Hanna's tented shadow. The air was chilly, with the bitter scent of pine and the damp, loamy musk of wet stone. The fabric of the tent whispered softly as Hanna pushed inside, her green, unblemished skin glowing with the light. Her black eyes met Margo's, a faint smile on her lips.

"You've slept long enough," Hanna told her, her voice rough and authoritative. She strode across the room in fluid, unhurried strides, pulling out a thickly woven, pretty tunic fro ...

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